Primal
by Lady Briannon Green
Summary: A new supervillain hits Bludhaven, and Huntress and Nightwing call in the big guns...
1. Chapter 1

I don't tell my stories. I don't think anyone cares. Well, no one who might read this anyway.

But this is one story that no one else is going to tell. To be honest, I think they'd all rather forget it ever happened. But then, I kind of would too.

It started last month, when things got really crazy, all of a sudden. Where I'd see one purse-snatching, a convenience store knock-off, maybe a battered wife in any given night, suddenly I was pulling guys off screaming girls in alleys and knocking out alley brawlers five, six a day. Always the same, too. They were like animals, biting, snarling, scratching... I'd have sworn we had zombies if they didn't still bleed.

It pained me, but after a week of going to work feeling like a walking bruise, my students started asking questions, and I had to ask for help.

The phone rang. Twice, three times, thank God it was going to voicemail. I kept it short. "Dick, it's me. Let's get coffee, tonight, the usual spot, 9:30." He would know what I meant.

At 9:15 I saw him pop out the door onto the rooftop of the Squealing Pig bar. He liked the irony of their sign, a fat pig in a policeman's uniform. I liked the fact they didn't light the roof. I shot a zipline over his head, missing him by inches, and dropped soundlessly into a crouch beside him, my cape floating around me. He was plainclothes, but I knew the suit was there, under the conservative button-up and khakis. Why else would he wear long sleeves in July?

He looked about like I felt, sporting a black eye, and moving like his ribs hurt. He lit up a cigarette, and silently offered me one. I took it. I don't smoke, but he likes the company. An unruly lock of dark hair fell into his eyes, and I pushed it back before I caught myself. He's not comfortable being touched, although everyone knows he needs it more than air, more than this charade we play every night, more than he needs his foster father's approval. He needs to be loved, and he's not willing to let anyone take the job. When he does, they die. Welcome to the club.

He fixed me with uncomfortably blue eyes as he lit my cigarette, and I managed a cocky grin. "Rough week?" I asked, searching his face for any sign he'd seen what I did. He nodded, brushing a finger over the yellowish-green bruise blossoming on my left cheek. "You too, obviously." I didn't give him the satisfaction of making me flinch. I think he was disappointed.

He took a long pull off his cig, and let it out in that angsty sigh he inherited from the Bat. The one that said he wished he was anywhere but here at this moment. And he spoke, careful not to use my name. "What the hell is going on?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"If I knew, you think I'd be calling you? It's nuts out there."

He nodded. "Should we call...?" Always the dutiful son. Hate the man, but at the first sign of trouble, let's go running to Daddy. I should have known. I should have called Dinah.

"Non mettere-" I caught myself, quickly. "Let's not put the cart before the horse." I hated sounding like some fresh-off-the-boat ginzo, and I hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Just get back from Sicily again?" Damn it, he did. He was laughing, too. I changed the subject.

"There's no reason to call him. We don't know anything yet anyway."

He looked at me for a long moment. "You just need help." It wasn't a question. And if it had been, it would have been the wrong one.

"Screw you, Dick. I don't need anyone." I pulled out my grappling gun. He put his hand on mine, his expression apologetic even in the reflected neon light from Porky McCopper below us.

"Huntress, I'm sorry." I believed it. His tone was sincere. "I need help too. I can't do this alone, these people... they're like PCP addicts. No conscious thoughts."

I sighed, and tucked the gun back into its pouch on my utility belt. "So we need to know what's causing it. A new drug?"

He considered. "Maybe. Some of these perps though, they're pretty stand-up guys. Family men who just all of a sudden come home and try to rape the babysitter. No history, no provocation, no drugs." A thought hit me.

"You said men. Have they all been men?" He nodded.

"Women don't tend to be violent."

I laughed. He smiled, that lop-sided little-boy grin that told me he knew it was funny before he said it. I stopped, and rolled my eyes, not wanting to encourage this.

"If it was drugs though, women do those. No up-swing in hookers, in fact, I've seen fewer than normal lately." I paused, thinking. "And the last time I gift-wrapped a girl for you boys in blue was weeks ago."

He got my point, and his brow furrowed, deep in thought. "I've noticed that too, actually. It's like they're hiding from something."

"From, I don't know, packs of hyper-violent men with no sense of morality or decency?" I asked sarcastically.

His eyes met mine, and the thought hit us simultaneously. "Poison Ivy?" he asked, with a quizzical tilt to his head.

I considered, and shrugged. "It's a workable theory. I'll run by Arkham and make sure she's still inside. If she's not, at least we'll know who IS missing. Get dressed and hit the streets?"

"Hey, why don't -I- go to Arkham while YOU stay here and get your ass beat?" I rolled my eyes again.

"Because my car is faster than your bike." Burn. Chew on that, Evel Kneivel. He knew I got him, but as he searched for a comeback, we heard the creak of the rooftop door. He turned to look, and by the time he turned back I was gone, leaving only a glowing cigarette butt at his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I stumbled into my apartment with just enough time to get a shower and get to work. It was so a movie day in math class. Maybe I'd show them Pi or something. High school students wouldn't be offended by Aronofsky, would they?

I slid the Lamborghini into a spot at the far end of the parking lot and sat there listening to the radio for a long moment, my head resting on the steering wheel. I was approaching the breaking point, and I knew it. I would have to take tonight off, or I would be no good to anyone. I turned off the car and dialed my cell phone from memory. As usual, he didn't answer, and I talked to his answering machine as I walked towards the front door of the school.

"Hey, it's me. The garden center still had that plant you wanted. They had all the ones we thought might work. I can go back and get one tomorrow if you don't find anything locally you like better." I snapped the phone shut as I entered my classroom to find the usual scene of chaos, panic and disorder. It must be really nice to be independently wealthy and get to sleep in. I wouldn't know.

With a heavy sigh, I called them to attention, slogging through the day on autopilot.

7 periods, two parent conferences, a staff meeting and a hellish rush hour commute later, I barely made it through my front door to collapse on the couch. My air conditioner was out, and my living room was like a sauna. I made a mental note to call the super, and I passed out. When I woke up, the sky had bled to moonless black, and someone was knocking on my window. I threw a pillow at it. No way in hell was I going out there tonight.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Goddamnit.

I sat up, scrubbing a hand through my disheveled curls, and looked over at the window. Shock didn't quite describe the jolt of cold adrenaline that shot through me. I scrambled over to open the window and she folded her long, lean body through it like she owned the place, the leather of her cropped motorcycle jacket creaking as she moved. "What the hell are you doing here?" I know I sounded cranky. Waking me up in the middle of the night will do that.

She looked around, a little uncertainly. "Can we talk safely?" I nodded, and she continued. "Dick called us to come check on you... You haven't been answering your phone."

I cursed under my breath in Italian, fumbling for my silenced cell phone in my purse and looking at it. 33 missed calls, and the battery was on reserve. At least he cared. I plugged it into the wall and turned back to the gorgeous blonde in my living room.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I need a night off." She sized me up, taking in my wrinkled silk blouse and conservative slacks, the makeup I know must have smeared into raccoon-like proportions around my eyes, and she shook her head.

"Helena, there's a riot going on at Mitchell's. If it was anything we could handle without you, I'd leave you alone to rest, but, it's ugly. REALLY ugly." I sighed.

"Fine, I'll meet you there. Go." She nodded and was gone as quickly as she'd come, leaving the window open to the uncomfortably warm night. I changed, scrubbed my face, and as I waited for the glue to dry on my mask, I thought about what she'd said.

Mitchell's isn't the sort of place you find a riot. The cheapest drink is $20 and the VIP rooms are frequented by celebrities, socialites, CEOs, the creme de la creme of Bludhaven society. Some celebutante had her last birthday there and it actually hurt their business because people thought she'd cheapened the place. On a Wednesday night it wasn't likely to be packed, but there would still be a good 300 people there, dancing, drinking, and enjoying the privileges of their wealth.

I leaned in close to the mirror - I would only get one shot at this, and after the last time some two-bit low-life made fun of me for the mask being on crooked, I was very careful. I pressed it hard to the center of my face and worked it outward, holding it in place as the adhesive dried.

10 seconds later I was out the window, and in 20 minutes I was at Mitchell's. She wasn't kidding. There were cop cars everywhere. Empty. EMPTY?

I saved time, I went through the skylight. Whatever, they had insurance. Never underestimate the power of a good entrance to strike fear into the hearts of the stupid.

I could hear the sounds of the scuffle as I dropped into the middle of it. Dick was tangling with two burly guidos I recognized as the bouncers, who had him pinned to the bar. Black Canary was surrounded by half a dozen cops with their hands over their ears, while two dozen civilians already lay unconscious on the floor in front of her. A sobbing go-go dancer huddled in her cage, beset on all sides by a horde of slavering man-beasts, and easily a hundred more shambled through the ruins of the chic decor, overturning tables and dragging screaming, scantily-clad girls out from beneath them by whatever appendages they could grip.

Nausea rolled through me in a palpable wave, and this had to stop. Now. Before they could spot me, I zip-lined back up to the rafters and dropped a handful of knockout gas canisters into the chaos. It was heavy, it would stay low. I tossed a line down to Canary who had the good sense to grab it and climb up to me a split second before the gas enveloped the angry mob below us.

She was bleeding from a shallow cut over one eye and holding her arm to her side, but she looked fine otherwise. "What the hell happened down there?" I asked, offering her a piece of gauze out of my utility belt.

She took it, pressing it to her forehead. "Nightwing heard the call go over the police radios that something was going on. He tried to call you, and he did get Oracle. She sent me to get you. By the time we got here, the cops had gone crazy too. I- I've never seen anything like it..." She shuddered, wrapping her arm even more tightly around herself and sitting down on the wide beam beneath us. "It's like their brains just shut down and they're running on pure instinct..." The distant wail of more sirens reached us as the noise below subsided.

I made my way along the beam until I was directly over the bar. I shot a grappling hook into the ceiling and held my breath, dropping into the middle of the roiling, greyish cloud near where I'd seen Dick. He and his opponents were just as unconscious as the rest of the rioters, and I clipped the line to my belt and grabbed him around the torso, retracting the line and pulling us both up and out of the gas.

I hadn't really given this much more thought than him not getting arrested, and we dangled there for a long moment while I contemplated how the hell I was getting 190 lbs of dead-weight Nightwing across 30 feet of two-inch board and through a broken skylight to safety. Oh, what I wouldn't have given to have that sanctimonious ass Jordan with us at that moment.

Fortunately at that moment, he stirred, causing us both to swing. "Nightwing?"

"Y-yeah?" He didn't sound too steady, but he was at least coherent.

"You with me?"

"Yeah..."

"Can you get down onto that cross-brace below us? I can't exactly hold you much longer..." My shoulders burned with the effort, and I could feel the strain on the line holding us up.

"I think so, yeah... Let go." I swung us over the beam and released him, watching him land in a somewhat sloppy, but passable, crouch. I dropped neatly beside him. Across the room, I could see Canary already making her way onto the roof, and in a few minutes I had Dick shuffled over there too. The two of us somehow got him up to open air, where he collapsed onto his back, breathing hard. Expected. Canary dropped beside him, coughing violently. Not so expected. I knelt beside them, flinching when I saw the droplets of scarlet staining her lips.

I cursed, long and fluently. She would need a hospital, and I shouldn't move her. Borrowing her earpiece, I made the call to Oracle.

Her voice was low and urgent as she instructed me to find Dinah a change of clothes. An unbarred store window half a block away yielded a dress that zipped all the way up the back. It would have to do. I hurried back to find Dick up and around, and the two of us got her changed. His relationship with law enforcement, by definition far better than mine, meant he got to take her down to the waiting ambulances, effectively camouflaged as just another victim. Oracle would meet her at the hospital, and Dick and I would search the area.

Any plan dictated to me by a woman in a wheelchair is by definition a terrible idea. For that matter, any plan dictated by ANYONE else is a terrible idea. But since it was what I would have done anyway, I agreed. Grudgingly.

We met back up a block south of Mitchell's, and didn't have far to look. After busting up a group of glazed-eyed gangbangers passing around a teenage girl, -she- found -us-.

We didn't hear her coming. Something hit me in the back of the head and I went down, the sticky pavement rushing up to crack my chin and skin my hands. Dazed, I registered a struggle behind me. By the time I could sit up, she had Nightwing pinned to a wall, blowing dust from her hand into his face.

She was tall, taller than me, and in the dim night it was hard to make out details. Her hair was red or light brown, her costume earthy browns and greens, and she was pretty, very pretty. Her hair hung in dreadlocks to her waist, woven through with vines and flowers, and tawny skin showed through diamond-shaped cuts in her bodysuit all around her narrow midsection. She leaned in to kiss him, just as my questing hand found my quarterstaff, and I hurled it at her.

Jackpot. It nailed her squarely between the eyes, and she staggered back, clutching her head. Dick was suddenly on her, fists flying with more savagery than I'd ever seen from him before, and she spun, pulling a hidden cape around her body and disappearing into the night.

Before I could pursue, he turned on me, his mindless fury making him predictable, but tenacious and dangerously strong. Every hit he landed radiated waves of pain through my body, and I was kept so strongly on the defensive I could hardly press an attack. As we fought I steered him toward where my staff had landed. I needed a weapon and the crossbow was not going to do it at this range. Finally, I felt my foot nudge the familiar metal shaft, and I dropped suddenly to the ground, sweeping his feet from under him and grabbing the staff. It was over in seconds - two good hits to the parietal bone and he was sleeping like a baby.

I took no chances, cuffing his hands, tying his feet and gagging him with one of his gloves before I went to get the car. Wrestling him into the backseat, I went straight for the clock tower. With any luck, he'd sleep til I got there.


	3. Chapter 3

A convenient dose of tranquilizer kept Nightwing out cold until dawn, when I reluctantly acknowledged that Oracle wasn't coming back. I borrowed clothes and a gym bag from Dinah's closet, grabbed a shower, and, leaving Bondage Fun Nightwing in the middle of the floor, headed out to go to work on my second night of no sleep.

She was coming in as I was leaving, and I filled her in quickly. She told me she'd handle it. I wondered how, but I couldn't miss work to find out. As it turns out, I probably should have asked.

She sent me a text from Dick's phone mid-morning, as my students tried their hardest to follow the movie's plot, and I had to keep hitting pause to explain WHY the main character was taking a drill to his brain, and why there was a Jewish man chasing him when all I really wanted was to put my head down and die for a solid 8 or 10 hours.

The text was short. "Pick me up after work where you dropped me off this morning. Dress up." Irritated, I slammed my phone shut and threw it into my purse. Fuck them, I wasn't ABOUT to cater to her bossy whims and be his personal chauffeur. By the time the last bell rang, I'd started simply telling my students to read the plot summary on IMDB when they got home as homework, and Ms. B. was not answering any questions until they did. Your tax dollars at work, American Citizens.

Still fuming, I drove to a deserted parking lot, changed into my costume, and jammed the sweaty, still-sticky mask on my face. I checked it in the mirror as I drove away. Crooked. Goddamnit. I was not fixing it. I was just going to break the neck of anyone who said anything at a 5 degree angle so it looked straight to them for the rest of their lives. Problem solved.

My mood did not improve when I came in and saw Dick, freshly changed, showered and shaved, sitting on the couch in a polo and jeans, Oracle sitting beside him with her hand covering his possessively. I could have punched them both, but I think I would have enjoyed punching her more. I settled for a direct verbal assault. "How's the head, Humpty Dumpty?"

He winced like I had hit him. "Helena, I am so, so sorry. I... I don't know what came over me, I was just so angry... You totally owe me a beating." He paused, waiting to see if I would actually hit him. Did he know me, or what? He continued. "When she blew that stuff at me... I could see what I was doing. Feel it. I wanted to kill, and destroy, and crush... But it just made such perfect sense. Like there was nothing wrong with it..."

I ignored his apology for the moment, looking at Oracle. "How'd you cure it? Can we duplicate it?"

She shook her head. "He was fine when he woke up. He called into work. Apparently everyone else they arrested last night was fine in the morning too. Whatever this is, it's short-lived."

"Did you get a sample of the toxin?"

Another head shake. Maybe I should kick that rueful look off her pretty face. I bet the tread on my boots would make for some interesting bruises. "There was nothing left in his bloodstream when I took the sample. We need a sample from immediately after exposure."

I could handle that, assuming our mystery woman hadn't hit the highway between last night and today. I guessed we weren't that lucky. "How's Dinah?"

"Two broken ribs, collapsed lung, but she's going to be okay. She's down for the count for several weeks though. It's just the two of you for now." She looked at me directly. "Can you get me that sample? It's not safe for Dick to be out there right now."

I snorted. "Get it yourself, I'm not your service dog." Her face twisted. Low blow. Good. I wanted the bitch to feel the way I felt with her sitting there holding his hand like she owned him. Would she still touch him like that if she knew whose bed he shared when his own got too big for him?

"Helena... please. We can't take the chance. You're going to be out there anyway..."

"Why does everyone assume that I don't have a life? I have plans tonight." Okay, so they involved an entire cheesecake, 1400 crunches to make up for said cheesecake, and the Sophia Loren marathon on IFC, but she didn't have to know that.

He spoke up. "I remember how hard I hit you last night. I split open the skin on 6 of my knuckles. " Yeah, remind me. That will help your case. "I... I can't stand the thought of doing that again." He looked up at me, and I could see the fear in his eyes. "If- if I seriously hurt you, or someone who -couldn't- take me down... I couldn't live with myself. What if I kill someone?"

"Touching. You gonna cry about it too?"

He just looked at me, giving me the baby blue treatment. I sighed, and I saw the triumph blaze across his face. He had me, and he knew he had me. Seeing no reason to continue the conversation, I grabbed a handful of syringes and tourniquets out of the supply cabinet and jammed them into a pouch on my belt.


	4. Chapter 4

By midnight, I had three samples from three crazed frat boys near the university. One had tried to have sex with me as I was knocking out his teeth one by one with my elbow, one tried to break my arm with his bare hands, and the third had done his best to eat me. I had a bloody chunk missing from my shoulder and a hole in my bodysuit, and the doctors are only about 30% sure he'll ever walk again - and they still can't figure out what happened to his tongue.

It was not a good night.

I busted up 6 more altercations on my way back to Oracle, including chasing a man in a 2000 dollar suit out of a butcher's garbage can, where he was mindlessly stuffing his face on weeks-old meat. If I survived this, I was sure the sight of his vacant, bloodstained face was going to show up in my nightmares.

I swept in like the conquering hero, brandishing my spoils. "It's like a Goddamn Romero movie out there. You would not BELIEVE some of the shit that went down tonight!"

His voice burned through the shadows, and I would know it anywhere. I was also pretty sure it might be the last voice I would ever hear. If anyone could kill me, it would be him, and if it came to that, I might welcome it. "Did you get the samples?"

I flipped on the light and he was standing right there, less than two feet from me, motionless in black, head to toe, with the bat on his chest squarely at eye level.

"I told them not to call you."

He snatched the syringes from my hand without another word, storming over to the bank of microscopes on the stainless steel worktable.

"Well, if my work here is done..." I turned to go.

"Wait." I stopped. I might fuck with Oracle, but I knew better than to fuck with him.

"What?" I asked defiantly. I might actually be afraid of him, but that didn't mean I had to admit it.

"I need to know what happened last night. Every detail. Nightwing's memory is too fuzzy."

"Can I change clothes first?"

He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and, borrowing another t-shirt and jeans from Dinah's dresser, I stripped off the sweaty, torn, bloody remains of my bodysuit, dropping it into the incinerator chute. Soaking a rag in the sink, I began to sponge the blood off my shoulder, wincing as the warm water stung the new scab.

He was suddenly behind me, and I spun, my eyes burning holes in his face. I saw his expression soften as he took in the bruises covering my ribcage, arms and legs, my olive skin marred by blotch after blotch in varying shades of purples, reds, yellows and greens. I was suddenly glad I hadn't stripped down any further than my bra and underwear, but faced with that intense gaze, I might as well have been naked. I just didn't want to explain the handprints on my ass from tonight's Contestant #1.

"You're hurt." He slipped off his gloves, took the rag from me firmly, and soaked it in peroxide from the bottle beside the sink. I steeled myself, and to my credit I didn't even flinch when he laid it on my shoulder, the tiny bubbles stinging and burning as they cleaned the jagged bite.

He was surprisingly gentle, and thoroughly professional as he cleaned off the detritus of the night's adventures. His fingertips on my bare skin were more of him than I had ever touched before, and I found myself having to continuously recount the reasons I hated him, over and over again, silently to myself. It had been months since the last time Dick had let himself in my bedroom window, and I was feeling the absence of a good roll in the hay, that was all. I would make a date with that car salesman this weekend, that would solve... everything. He firmly pushed me down onto Dinah's bed. I stared up at him, vaguely aware that he'd said something, but I'd been lost so far in my own little world that I had no idea what it had been. He was clearly waiting for a response, though.

"..what?" I managed to spit out, cursing the day I had ever been born.

"Your shoulder. You need stitches. Do you want anesthetic first?"

Not what I had been thinking. At all. A small part of me was disappointed.

"Oh... um... No. Don't need it." I flipped my hair, looking up at him confidently. He nodded, opening a package of suture from the medicine cabinet and kneeling in front of the bed. He had put himself at eye level with the bite, in a stable position where he could see what he was doing. So why did it feel like any second, he would plunge his face into my breasts?

Dick found us like that, nearly half an hour later as the Bat was finishing his tiny, neat stitches on my shoulder. His reaction was not nearly as cool as his mentor's, and I watched his jaw drop at the sight of me on the bed in my underwear, with Batman leaning over my chest. I felt a quick surge of triumph that at least I'd worn something presentable today. This would have been far more mortifying if I'd been wearing ratty pink granny panties. Besides, it was nothing he hadn't seen a dozen times before.

He sat down beside me, still wearing his costume, and picked up my free arm to study the pattern of bruises on it. His voice was quiet, and I was pale, and shaking from the pain of the stitches and the willpower it had taken not to make a sound during the agonizing process, and before the words had even left his mouth I was crying.

"Huntress, did I do this to y-? Huntress? What is it?" My tears clearly alarmed him, and he looked at Batman, startled. I couldn't deny my gratitude when he just brushed it off with a wave of his free hand.

"I gave her something for the pain, it's making her emotional." He clipped the tail of the stitches and tossed the gauze he'd been using for cleanup and the left-over suture in the garbage as I scrubbed at my eyes, ignoring the burn in my shoulder.

He distracted Dick, asking him about where he'd been that night and what he'd seen, giving me a chance to regain my composure. As soon as I stopped crying, he headed for the door like he hadn't even noticed. He paused, leaning arrogantly on the doorframe and looking at me.

"Oh, and Huntress?" I looked back, my expression perfectly calm. "Nice bunnies." And he was gone.

I could neither hide nor fight the crimson blush I felt blossom across my cheeks as Dick collapsed beside me, laughing uncontrollably. I swore up and down that I was never, never, ever buying anything but basic black underwear. Ever. Again. Ever. As long as I lived.

Things suddenly got serious as Dick sat back up, and we both realized we were alone on a bed, and I was mostly naked. His eyes met mine, and he leaned in for a wild, hungry kiss, his arms enveloping me completely and crushing my battered body against his. He smelled of motor oil and garbage, salt and sand, and it was the most wonderful scent I had ever experienced at that moment. I kissed back, tangling my hands in his hair, ignoring the slicing pain against the scrapes on my palms, as if I could pull his essence into myself if I just kissed a -little-harder...

The approaching hum of Oracle's wheelchair startled us apart, and he had disappeared into the bathroom before she reached the door. I blinked at her, searching for words. Fortunately, she didn't seem to need any from me, and even better, didn't seem to suspect anything was wrong.

"Will you tell Dick when he's done cleaning up that Batman wants him to go back to Gotham with him tonight?" She smiled at me, a detached smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was disappointed he wouldn't be staying here. But then, he never did. They didn't have that kind of a relationship. He loved her. He slept with me. I knew. She didn't. Her loss. Or was it mine?

I nodded, mutely, and she departed.


	5. Nightwing

Nightwing

We were back by 6:30, and this time it was "official." The big man checked himself into the Ritz, bought me breakfast in their restaurant, and smiled and waved at the paparazzi who swarmed us before our poached eggs had even arrived.

By the time we made our respective escapes, it was nearly 8. I knew Helena would have left for work already, and I looked forward to a few hours alone with Barbara before I had to go in for second shift. Seeing the Lambo in the garage where she'd left it the night before, I felt a frown building. I left my motorcycle beside it, looking like the shabbier country cousin to its sleek curves, and went upstairs to find out what was going on.

I found Babs wheeling back and forth across the entryway, pacing the only way she could, and she turned on me as I walked in. The combined power of the Look and a distinct lack of sleep turned it into a formidable assault, and I cringed.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Bruce and I were at breakfast, I couldn't risk-" She didn't let me finish.

"I was worried SICK! He disabled my tracking beacon again! I had NO idea where you were and Alfred said you'd left hours ago!"

"Barbara, I'm sorry. You know how he is. I didn't mean to worry you... Did something happen?" I spent a lot of time apologizing. I was getting good at it.

She shook her head, and I saw her anger slowly dissipating.

"Did you find out anything?"

I shook my head too. "The computer's processing our samples, and it'll network with yours when it's finished. He's going to stay a few days, til we get this under control." I knelt beside her, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her tightly. She hugged me back, her red hair soft against my cheek and the scent of her favorite perfume washing over me. I closed my eyes, relaxing against her, until the sound of a pained cry from Dinah's room startled us both.

I jumped up, frowning at her, and she motioned me to go check on Huntress.

She was out of bed, leaning heavily on the dresser, nearly doubled over in pain, her hair plastered to her forehead with a sheen of sweat that covered her body. She wore a tank top and those adorable pink bunny panties from last night, and her skin was white where it wasn't red or purple. I ran to her, catching her arm and helping her back into bed. She tried to shrug me off.

"I'm fine. Just sore. I need to go to work."

Her body blazed beneath my hands, warmer than I had ever felt her.

"No way, Helena. You're staying home today."

She tried to push my hand away, and I gasped, seeing her shoulder as the strap moved.

"You need a doctor. That bite from last night looks terrible."

"Get the fuck off me, Dick. I have to go. They have a test today." She was barely coherent.

"A substitute can give them their test."

I picked her up and held her in front of the mirror, yanking the strap of her tank top down so she could see the angry black and grey and purple bite, and the red streaks radiating from it. She went silent, and then gingerly touched it, jerking her hand back and hissing in pain. She nodded, defeated.

"Yeah, I need a doctor."

I made the appointment while she called into work, and I have no doubt they believed her, since even from the same room she sounded like death warmed over.

The doctor's office was full of similar cases, people holding icepacks to broken hands, dish towels to cut faces, limping badly... Helena looked bad enough though, they took us right in.

She'd gone downhill from the time I'd called to when I helped her lie down on the exam table. She felt several degrees warmer, and she wasn't even trying to speak anymore. She just buried her face against my chest, and I gently stroked her hair.

The doctor looked like he'd been having the morning from hell. It was barely noon and he already had 5 o'clock shadow lining his jaw, and tension lines at the corner of his eyes that didn't bode well.

"What seems to be the problem here?"

"Well, we were out at this bar last night and some guy, he attacked her. Like an animal. I managed to pull him off and the bouncers came to help, but he bit her..."

I showed him the bite on her shoulder, trying my best to play the concerned boyfriend as his eyes took in not only the visible infection, but the scrapes on her chin and hands, and the garlands of bruises all over her body.

"These are all from that... one... incident?" He wasn't buying it. Damn. He looked at me in silent accusation.

"Of course not. She's a competitive martial artist. There was a tournament this week. Last night was only a few of these." She started to laugh, and stopped, whimpering. I hugged her gently.

He looked like he didn't believe me as he studied her shoulder. "These stitches are professionally done. Didn't the hospital CLEAN this?"

"They didn't even take her name, man." I put an edge of desperation in my voice. "They were PACKED. They just sprayed it with disinfectant and stitched it up. No drugs or nothing." Having seen the aftermath of the current epidemic sitting in his waiting room, he believed me.

Helena stirred suddenly. "I need to go to work. I forgot to tell them where the test was, they'll be behind and-" I put a finger over her mouth.

"You're not going to work, Helena. You're sick." The doctor nodded, agreeing with me.

"You'll need at least a week off, and we'll start you on some strong antibiotics. That should clear this right up. I'll call your employer right now and get those drugs." I wrote down the school's number for him, gratefully, and he left the room.

I was thoroughly unprepared when she fixed her eyes on the empty corner of the room and started screaming.

"Helena? Helena, what is it? What do you see?"

"MANDRAGORA!" She was in a panic, struggling to get to her feet. I held her firmly, locking her arms behind her back. She connected with a kick to my sternum and my breath went out in a startled "oof" noise, but I managed to pin her with my upper body before she could hit me again.

"Helena, there's nothing there. There's nothing there. Close your eyes, it's not real." She stared at me, her dark eyes wide with terror, and they flicked back to the corner and she screamed again.

"Helena, do you trust me? CLOSE YOUR EYES. I'm here, he can't hurt you. Close your eyes, Helena." She did, shaking violently under my body. Where our skin touched, she was so hot she burned. I held her, murmuring continuously that she was safe, and I would protect her, and it wasn't real.

"I can hear him breathing..." she sobbed, hiding her face in my neck.

The doctor rushed back in. "What happened?"

"She's hallucinating. Just started."

He grabbed a thermometer and jammed it into her ear, clicking the button. It beeped at 104.2.

"Nightw-" she started to say, and I jammed my hand over her mouth.

"Helena, shhh. Shhh. Be quiet. You're safe."

The doctor looked at me suspiciously. "She needs to go to the hospital. Right away."

Oh that was going to end well. The last thing I needed was a hallucinating superhero screaming all of our names through the crowded halls.

"We have a friend who's a nurse, we can take care of her at home."

"She'll need IV antibiotics, an ice bath, painkillers, sedatives, fever reducers, can you handle all that?"

I nodded, trying to look confident. "Sure, no problem." I kept my hand firmly over her mouth until she stopped trying to speak, and then I let go.

"Helena, you want to go home, right? Not to the hospital?"

She nodded, whispering "He'll find me at the hospital, he'll find me." She opened her eyes, glazed now with fever and fear.

The doctor looked skeptical, but with her agreement, he couldn't argue. He started the IV, gave me a detailed dosing schedule, and made me promise that if her fever wasn't down in 4 hours or went up at all, I'd take her to the ER. He also insisted that she couldn't be left alone until her temperature stayed below 102 for 12 hours.

One quick trip to the pharmacy and a whole arsenal of drugs later, she was settled back in at the clock tower. I know she would have rather been home, but at least there even if I had to go out, she wouldn't be alone.

I didn't realize I'd missed work until my phone rang as we were putting Helena into her second ice bath. I cursed in languages I didn't even realize I knew, and as I answered the phone she started screaming again.

Great.

I stepped out into the hall, hoping it would muffle the sounds, but, you know what they say about Italians and their lungs.

"Sounds like you got your hands full, G. Everything okay?" Amy was, blessedly, pretty understanding.

"Yeah, one of my friends got hurt bad last night. I'm sorry, I totally forgot to call in."

She laughed it off. "No problem. Take care of it. I trust you. See you tomorrow."

"Thanks Amy, you're the best."

She hung up, and I went back into the bathroom, back into hell


	6. Chapter 6

Huntress

I remember waking up in agony. I remember calling into work, and then things got hazy. I remember Mandragora's corpulent face, leering over me as he pressed his silenced gun to Dick's forehead. They didn't know he was there, they were helpless. And then darkness.

Cold. Dark. Silent. Terror again. And then cold, and silence, and more darkness.

I knew on some level that I was dead. That he'd found me, and killed me the way he'd killed everyone I ever loved. I was dead, and this was hell.

I came to with a start, hearing voices. Dick sounded worried. Oracle too. And Batman. I thought he left. Figures.

I rolled over, slowly opening my eyes, and the IV needle in my arm pulled at my skin. I shifted to straighten out the arm, blinking up at the three faces suddenly in my field of view.

"What happened to her?" It had been Batman's voice that woke me.

In response, Dick peeled the covers away from my shoulder, showing him the results of last night's handiwork.

"I cleaned it, thoroughly." He sounded disgusted.

"Do we know anything yet?" I asked, sparing us all the tirade I knew was coming from one or the other of them.

Dick looked like he wanted to simultaneously laugh and cry in relief, but he settled for taking my hand and squeezing it gently. Of course. She was here, he couldn't show any affection. Bitch.

Just once, I wanted to be coddled and fawned over like everyone did to her. Just because her legs didn't work didn't make her any more fragile than any of the rest of us. I wasn't fooled by the act.

"All business, huh?" he asked me, teasing.

I managed a tight little smile. "Keep your mind in the game, Nightwing. It's the only way to get out alive." I saw approval flit across Batman's face, even through the cowl. I wished I didn't care, but I did, and I liked it.

"I've finished analyzing the compound. I don't think it has any connection to what's happening to you. It shuts down the frontal cortex for up to 12 hours."

I looked at him, not following. Oracle chimed in. "The frontal cortex controls morality, logic, language, everything that makes us human. Without it, we run on instinct... The four f's."

"Four f's?"

Dick grinned at me. "Fighting, feeding, fleeing, and, um, sex."

"But that doesn't start with an... oh." My brain felt like it was trying to drag itself through a pool of sludge. It would get where everyone else got, just slower, and stickier. I let it slog for a minute, until it processed a reasonably intelligent question.

"Why is it only affecting men?"

Batman shrugged, his cape whispering back into its soft folds behind him.

"We're not sure yet. We tried it on samples of all of our blood, and it survived in mine and Nightwing's, but not in Oracle's. It just curled up and died."

"Did you try mine?"

Oracle was gentle, speaking slowly. I think she was the only one who realized how drugged I really was. "Helena, you have more chemicals in your system right now than Bane. It wouldn't be a valid test. We're trying it on some samples we already had in stock right now."

"In point of fact, Bane only used one chemical. How many am I on?" The sludge must be easing up, if I could still be a smart-ass.

Dick chuckled, holding up a handful of syringes from the nightstand. "This many."

I facepalmed, forgetting about my hands, and winced. "No wonder I feel like a zombie myself..."

I saw a glance dart between Batman and Oracle, something significant, and suddenly Batman was taking a small vial of my blood, and disappearing back out to the lab.

"What was that?" Dick looked as confused as I was. Oracle turned to follow the Bat, her expression causing us both to mirror her concern.

"What if this thing IS contagious?" She wheeled out, leaving us to stare at each other. We started speaking at the same moment.

"My frontal cortex is working fine..."

"It's just an infection..."

We stopped and then I just started laughing. Oh, the grand irony, if I got turned into a 12 hour zombie by a drunken frat boy on a rampage. Who knows, it might be fun. Maybe I'd finally kick that skinny holier-than-thou prodigy out of her chair and curb stomp her a couple times. I wondered if I'd want to eat her, and if I did, what she might taste like.

Nah. I was pretty sure if my morality center stopped functioning, the first thing I was going to do is tear that henley off Dick's chest and-

My brain wouldn't go any further than that, as it reminded me that I was in too much pain to sit up, much less go cavorting around molesting trust fund babies on my kitchen table. Nope. Definitely not a zombie.

He was looking at me, concerned. "Helena, what is it? What's so funny?"

I dissolved into giggles again, shaking my head. "You wouldn't possibly find it as funny as I did."

His confusion made it funnier, and I laughed until I could barely breathe and he was on the verge of sedating me again.


	7. Chapter 7

I was in and out for the next two days, or so they tell me. It passed in a haze of comings and goings, watching the Bat and his sidekick, together again. I could track what was happening from how hard the various pieces of armor dropped onto the floor above me, in the room Dick was currently sharing with Oracle.

The night I heard him fling a gauntlet across the room so hard the impact reverberated down the wall and knocked a perfume bottle off the dresser, I knew something big had changed. I got up, towing my IV pole like a large, ungainly metal puppy, and made my way out to the lab where Batman crouched over a microscope as he did every night, unraveling the newcomer's toxin.

He didn't even raise his head. "You should be resting." His voice was dark, angry. Frustrated.

"What happened?"

He turned, violently. "She's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"Skipped town. No way to track her. And we still know NOTHING!" He got up, stalking across the room to the computer workstation, his cape swirling around him menacingly.

"Where do you think she'll go?"

He threw up his hands. "Damned if I know. Somewhere that can't bring the heat like we can. Central City, maybe. We almost had her. SO CLOSE!" He let out a growl, animal-like in its ferocity. Words had, apparently, failed him.

"So we'll chase her when she turns up. Whatever. A delay is a good thing, it'll give us time to get me and Black Canary back into action." I tried to sound flippant about it. Given my altered state of consciousness, I have no idea if it worked.

He didn't seem to share my apparent confidence. "And how many people will die in the meantime? How much stronger will she get?"

I shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it now. Que sera sera and all that."

He was on me in seconds, hands like steel gripping my upper arms. "And if those people were your family, your friends? Would you be so callous then?"

I considered, not letting him see how much his hold was hurting me. "Yeah, I would. We can't win them all. Sometimes, we're just gonna fuck up. Doesn't mean we'll quit."

He shoved me away, roughly, and turned to pace. I staggered, catching myself on the IV pole. Yeah, I was back at fighting strength, sure. At my prime, I came close to taking him down. Now he was throwing me around like a rag doll. This could only end badly when I hit the streets again.

I gave up, making my way back to Dinah's room and settling back in. I tried to sleep, but my mind refused to let me, playing back images as memories that had never happened. My father in the mystery woman's embrace. How would she have changed him? He was always so gentle with my mother, and with me. Would he have become violent? Hit her? And Dick... if he had gone for sex, instead of violence, would I have let him? Would he have fucked me right there in that alley? And would I have enjoyed it?

I finally fell asleep to the real memory of his hands on my skin and his lips on my neck, and in the dream that followed they were no longer Dick's hands, but the Batman's larger, rougher ones. His laugh was cruel as they closed around my neck, our bodies interlocked, the greatest pleasure mixed with abject terror as I struggled futilely and felt my vision go dark.

I woke sweating, still shaking from the vividness of the nightmare. Working on routine, I took my temperature as I pulled my hair back into a sloppy ponytail and picked out clothes for the day, a tight black t-shirt and low-rise yoga pants. Dinah's wardrobe was growing on me. Nobody had offered to get anything from my apartment, and I hadn't asked. I had to admit a certain curiosity about when Oracle would notice, but it was a given that she had bigger things on her mind. Until she did, I was spared a big pile of laundry, and I wasn't complaining.

The thermometer beeped and I glanced at it. 98.8. "YES!"

Dick poked his head in. "Helena, what is it?" I waved the thermometer in his face.

"SOMEONE is going home today!" I couldn't help myself, and I'm pretty sure I did some sort of stupid dance. He shook his head, grinning at me.

"We have to get the doctor to okay it. I'll make an appointment for this morning. But I am NOT missing work again. If you start hallucinating, I'm leaving you there this time and letting them treat you for delusions of heroism." His words were harsh, but the tone was teasing, and I grinned back, carefully stripping off the tank top I was wearing and easing it over the IV bag.

He beat a hasty retreat. Damn. There went that bubble.

The doctor said exactly what we expected - I could go off the IVs, onto antibiotic pills, and I could go home. I was still off work for another 4 days, and I was supposed to take it easy. Yeah, right. I smiled, nodded, and in my mind already planned out the workouts I would need to be back in top form as quickly as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a few days, but I wasn't far from feeling like myself. And this going to bed early bit? I could get used to this.

Still no word from the Bat and his Boy, but through the grapevine I'd heard the Bat had chased our girl to Mexico and lost her somewhere in Juarez. THAT was sure to make the serial killer urban legends a bit more interesting for a while.

I heard my stereo kick on and I rolled over to hit the snooze button on the remote. Something moved in the darkness and I sat bolt upright, reaching for the crossbow beside the bed, staring at the shadow silhouetted in my window. "It's me" he hissed, and I stopped. "Dammit Nightwing, it's 3:30 in the morning."

"She's back." Three little words and all my righteous indignance vanished. She was here. And the Bat still in Mexico for at least the 6 hours it would take him to get on a flight back. I hit the power button on the stereo remote, cutting the Pierces off mid-chorus and jumped out of bed, grabbing for the closet door and flipping on the light.

I heard his sharp intake of breath right about the time I realized I was wearing a pair of black lace panties and nothing else - my AC was STILL out. The super was ordering parts. Least of my worries. But I could use this. I ignored him, feeling his gaze on me as I opened the secret compartment behind the back wall and began to pull out all my toys. He held out for all of a minute and a half and his hands were suddenly around my waist. I turned to kiss him as he shoved me against the wall, and he returned it, full of desperation and a frustration that went far deeper than this latest set-back. What HAD I missed?

He ground his lower body hard against me and a tiny whimper escaped my throat unbidden. I felt his smile against my skin as he trailed kisses across my collarbone. "I love the noises I can make you make..," he whispered into my neck. I tangled my hands in his perpetually-disheveled dark hair, dragging his head up to mine again as I kissed him deeply, hungrily. He fumbled with the catches on his gauntlets and then his hands were on me, my breasts, my stomach, my hips, and lower, peeling off my panties and dropping them to the floor. I so enjoyed it when things happened to make him feel like he had no control, because then he searched for it in other ways. One of them was, invariably, me. Oracle micromanaged every aspect of his life. As far as he knew, I wasn't even sure where he LIVED. And he thought I didn't care.

Years of experience had taught me how to get him out of his suit, and I availed myself of them now. I had him naked in minutes, his weapons dropping to the floor with the rest of his suit and then skin was on skin. Somehow we ended up on the floor, me on top, and then he was inside me in one agonizingly long thrust. I was forgetting something. It was important. He moved underneath me and I groaned his name.

Shit. "Dick... Condom... Goddamnit..." He cursed too, pushing me off long enough to grab the box from my nightstand. I was impressed he remembered where they were. But then, he WAS the last one to need them. I really needed the number of a good male escort service. I was -so- done with everything being on his terms, just like his mentor and his girlfriend. The whole holier-than-thou happy family. And then he was inside me again and everything else disappeared and I wouldn't trade him for anything. I heard his earpiece chirp and he yanked it out with a frustrated growl.

I stopped. If she didn't get ahold of him, she'd freak, and she'd make his life - and mine- a living hell. Not how I wanted to spend the afterglow. I grabbed it and handed it back. He didn't like it, but he understood, jamming in back into his ear and hitting the button. "Go ahead, Oracle"

"You're out of breath... are you in a fight?" She sounded worried. I hid a giggle.

"No, I dropped the bike. Just got it back up. I'm fine." He tried to sound frustrated. It's not acting if it's real.

"Aren't you at Huntress's?" The tracking beacon. Fuck. Fortunately for all of us, he thinks fast.

"Dammit, I must have left my beacon at her place. I'll go back for it. Hopefully she hasn't left yet."

"You know Huntress. I'm sure she hasn't." I could picture her rolling her eyes. A surge of irritation hit me, until I remembered I was in the middle of fucking her boyfriend. I suddenly felt better.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll call you when I hit the road again, alright?"

"Sure. Hey Nightwing?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you. Stay safe."

"Love you too." He clicked off, but I could see we were done from the guilt on his face. He hated lying to her, hated that he even wanted to do this, hated even more that he regularly -did-.

I got up, yanking on my bodysuit. "Get out, DIck." He looked hurt. Good, he deserved it.

"Helena, I'm sorry, it's just-" I interrupted him before he could try and rationalize any of this.

"You act like I give a shit. Hit the highway, Nightwing. I'll see you on the streets. IF I ever get out the door." I could see the ice in my words cut him as he suited back up. Then, without another word, he was back out the window and gone.

I finished getting suited and masked and slipped out the window and down the fire escape. The Lamborghini lurked in her parking spot, waiting for me like some great shadowy cat. I slid in, slamming the door harder than I needed to, the clang of metal on metal echoing across the fronts of the silent buildings. "Sorry Baby," I murmured, stroking the steering wheel. "It's not your fault." The big engine purred to life as I turned the key.

Ah, Lamborghini. The one person in my life that would never disappoint me, leave me unsatisfied, or choose a crippled has-been over me. I loved my car in that moment, more than I ever had, and we hit the streets with a vengeance. Tonight... I was following the screams. 


	9. Chapter 9

Another frustrating night passed with no sign of our mystery woman, but plenty of evidence of her handiwork. I spent as much time evading the police patrols and even a few squads of National Guardsmen as I did knocking out the aggression junkies. Apparently Bludhaven had just been declared a disaster area. They were even sending in the CDC to test for biological weaponry. Great. If we could figure out where they were doing their research, with any luck, we could steal it and use anything they found. I followed a team in haz-mat suits for an hour, but all they were doing was sampling the air and loading the victims into a paddywagon in cuffs and hoods. At dawn, there was no sign they'd be heading home anytime soon, so I cut and ran.

I managed an hour nap in my car and a large fast food coffee, and then I was back at work. Thank God for locker room showers, but it wasn't quite enough to get the glue off my face from my mask and I spent most of first period surreptitiously picking it off. I kept glancing at my phone, but there was no word from Dick. I had a moment of regret for throwing him out the night before, not least because I was still on the bullet train to nun-land and wanted off. Badly. I broke my own rules and took a smoke break behind the cafeteria at lunchtime, hating myself every minute of it. A couple of my students were out there, and I bummed a light off the second string quarterback. Your tax dollars at work.

The day dragged, and I was so tired that I actually dozed off while standing at the board, trailing a long chalk line halfway down the board to my student's laughter as I snapped back up. Tonight I had a date with my bathrobe and the fuzzy slippers Dick always made fun of me for, and I was staying OFF the streets.

When I pulled up, I knew immediately that someone had been in my apartment. My bedroom window was wide open, the curtains shoved violently aside and hanging crookedly from a broken rod. Dick. It had to be. Who else would come in that window when the one in the living room was wider and not visible from the street?

Slipping my crossbow into my purse and holding it at the ready, I carefully unlocked my door and pushed it open, keeping my body to the side of the doorframe until I could gauge the situation. The living room was clear. I listened intently. No sound. I was at a real disadvantage - I couldn't see into the kitchen or the bedroom from here. I kicked off my heels and set down my gear bag, padding in the door silently. Keeping my back to the wall, I inched around the corner and checked the kitchen. Clear. No sign of disturbance. The bedroom then.

I took a chance. I drew the crossbow and held it steadily on the bedroom door. "HELLO?" I called, trying to sound nervous and weak, like any schoolteacher who's just discovered her apartment has been broken into. "Is- is anyone there?"

I was entirely unprepared for who showed up. He staggered to the bedroom door, a trail of crimson dripping from a dozen bloody gashes in his forearm, sweat pouring out of his cowl and streaking his chestplate, and leaned heavily on the doorframe. His gravelly voice was almost unrecognizable, distorted with pain and a barely-contained madness. "Huntress..."

I froze. A dozen thoughts raced through my mind in a split second. If I shot him, right now, no one would blame me. I could blame the puppetmistress. I could free myself and Dick, now and forever. I could be the one who finally took down the Bat, and that had to count for something. Was he about to kill me?

He went to one knee, barely holding himself up. I could see the tightness in his jaw and the muscles of his neck. He was shaking with the effort of... what? Not eating me?

He didn't make a move. I waited, watching him warily. "Huntress..." he whispered again, his eyes fixed on my face even through the film of the cowl's lenses. Knowing I'd regret it, I lowered the crossbow and made my way to his side, kneeling in front of him. "Batman? What happened?"

He choked out something that sounded like "Primal" and reached out for me. I jerked back, raising my weapon. He didn't stop. I kept the quarrel fixed on him but there was something in his face that glued me into place. Besides, what were chances anything short of a grenade would penetrate the kevlar and ceramic that I knew the suit was made from anyway? What was I really going to do, beat at him with my tiny fists until he didn't want to kill me anymore?

A large gloved hand, uncomfortably warm even through the thick fabric, slid across my cheek to lock in my hair, and he pulled me closer. I bit my lip, and I let it happen. The motion put the crossbow quarrel under his chin where there was no armor. This was good. This was okay. I could kill him if I needed to. Where the fuck was Dick?

He was saying something. I tuned back in just in time to hear "-removes inhibitions. Can... be channeled... not resisted." I stared at him, not sure what he was getting at. "Channeled into what?" I asked.

"Sex..." As the word left his lips, entirely foreign on the heroic tongue, I got it. Me? Really? REALLY?

"Seriously?" I stared at him, my mouth gone dry. He leaned in to kiss me, and it was brutal. He seemed completely unaware of the imminent danger to life and limb, or of the fact that we were in the middle of my bedroom doorway, or that he was still completely suited up. His lips were dry and cracking, and the kiss was rough, bruising, desperate... I put a hand on his chest and tried to shove him away, but his grip on the back of my head was like iron and all I did was sprain my neck.

I managed to brace a foot against his chest and kicked him in the solar plexus full force, propelling me back across the living room floor and breaking his grip at the expense of a nasty rug burn. "No WAY!" I spat. He didn't pursue me, picking himself back up to a sitting position and holding his head in his trembling hands. I could see him fighting it, pulling out every reserve of willpower he'd learned over the decades he'd hidden behind the cowl and cape..

I had a sudden, suicidal moment, and crawling back to him on all fours, I took his face in my hands and I kissed him, the hard polymer of the cowl cool to the touch but his skin burned where it touched mine. He let out a strangled groan and yanked at my shirt, buttons skittering everywhere across the floor. Oh he was going to pay for that one. I loved this shirt. He buried his face in my breasts, the stubble on his chin dragging across them like fine grit sandpaper.

Trailing my lips across his jaw, I murmured "How do I get the suit off?" Obligingly, he released the complicated series of latches, catches, hooks and zippers without ever once lifting his head. I couldn't begin to tell you how it all worked, and I couldn't have reproduced it even at that moment. I did find the catches for the cowl with my fingertips, but as I went to release them, he caught my wrists in his hand and growled "No!"

He jerked my hands over my head, crushing my wrists in one powerful hand, and pushed me backwards onto the carpet. I bit back a yelp as he stretched the barely healed wound on my shoulder and the sound seemed to drive him mad. He had me naked in record time. Even though I wasn't sure he was going to remember any of this, or admit it if he did, part of me was still glad I hadn't worn the bunny underwear today, and had instead settled for a plain, basic black thong. I know what you're thinking, and yes, they're entirely impractical. But talk to me about that after you've had some gangbanger make fun of YOUR panty lines under your spandex, huh?

He tore the thong from my body, the elastic snapping under the ferocious assault, and he mounted me the way I imagined one would mount a horse - all business. His mind was so focused on the act that at that moment I could have been a blow up Chinese sex doll for all he cared. Note to self. Buy blow up Chinese sex doll for next such occurrence.

I remembered the condoms too late, but I could never have gotten to them anyway. He drove into me so hard it drew a cry of pain. That got through to him and he stopped for a moment, finally seeming to see me. He was big. I wasn't surprised. Everything about him was larger than life, why shouldn't his cock follow suit?

"Huntress..." the harsh whisper dripped from his lips. I could almost hear the battle between his head and his libido, that deeply entrenched morality fighting not to go ahead with this if it wasn't wanted.

"Yeah?" I whispered back, holding perfectly still beneath him.

"Need this..."

"I know." I bit my lip. "Can I have my hands back?"

He released my wrists, reluctantly. I could feel bruises blossoming there against the tiny bones and I rubbed them gingerly before sliding my hands over his shoulders. I remembered the gentleness he had shown patching me up, the dozens of times he could have turned me in and didn't, the times he'd saved my life, and Dick's, and Dinah's, and everyone else who mattered in my world. Fuck it, I had been ready to do this a week ago. I was ready to do this now.

I dug my nails into his back, whimpering softly. "Please," I begged him. "Shut up and fuck me."

He did. If you've never been with a hero... you are missing OUT. All the training, all the weight lifting, the martial arts and the gymnastics, that all comes through. And we never get tired. I had a moment's respite to wonder who was under that cowl before he was inside me again and all coherent thought fled.

The muscles in his back flexed like steel cords under my hands as he pounded into me, blurring the line between pain and pleasure, and when he came, he let out a long, deep groan, the forehead of the cowl dropping to my chest and resting there. It was heavy. What was in that thing, lead? I sighed, disappointed and unsatisfied. So much for the man, the myth, the legend.

As he recovered, he slowly lifted his head, looking at me through the expressionless mask. Then, he kissed me long and hard, and I tasted blood - I wasn't sure if it was his, or mine, or both. I was ready to wriggle free and try to make my escape when he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed and throwing me down onto the rumpled sheets. I felt him hardening again in moments, his body half-covering mine. If that couple minutes was all the break he needed, I had most definitely been spending my drunken evenings with the wrong cape. His hand, uncomfortably warm and clammy with sweat, slid between my legs to tease my clit and a tiny moan escaped my lips. A probing finger slipped into me, then another, to find I was still open and wet. Although it hurt, I wasn't about to try and stop this before I got at least one good orgasm out of it. I arched my back, opening my legs, and kissed him. The salt on his skin stung against my split lip, and in a matter of seconds nothing hurt at all anymore. 


	10. Chapter 10

Nightwing:

He rousted us out of bed at 2 AM and summoned us to Helena's apartment. At the time, I didn't give it any thought. Just loaded Barbara and her chair into my car and headed over, grumbling about the hour. Batman has never been one for schedules, or sleeping, or even common courtesy, and I wish I could say this was the first time such a thing had happened.

We'd been enjoying our first decent night's sleep... and other things... since this whole mess started, and I stole a glance at her as I drove, her red hair softly tousled and her face, pretty without a speck of makeup, lost in some half-awake dreamland. I rested my free hand on her knee and she looked over, smiling at me with half-closed eyes. "Helena better have coffee." I knew she did. She even kept a bag of the high octane stuff we brew at the station, just for me. It was in the back of the cabinet behind the canned goods, along with a bottle of Grappa and a butterfly knife. I just nodded. "I hope so too."

The Bat answered the door, shirtless but cowled. He looked like hell. His left arm was wound in bloody gauze and his shoulders were covered in shallow scratches, a handful of bruises blossoming on his chest. There was no sign of Helena. I admitted a touch of disappointment to myself, but I wasn't surprised. It wasn't like she was going to just hang around and let her apartment become Batcave 2.0 without a fight, but that wasn't a fight she would have won, and I guessed she'd gone out to sulk and take out her frustration on the denizens of the night.

He sank onto the couch as I shut and locked the door behind us. With a glance at the closed bedroom door, he shucked off his cowl and dropped it onto the coffee table with a dull thunk, revealing a pale, drawn visage, his hair plastered to his scalp. Barbara let out an involuntary cry of surprise, and I reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

"What happened?" I asked.

"She calls herself Primal." He said wearily, scrubbing a hand through the sweaty mop of hair. "She's got it out for mankind. Something about men no longer being the dominant sex, and showing their true natures. She's got something. A toxin. Airborne but the filters on the cowl didn't catch it. She blew it at me from her hand and I just... saw red."

I froze. Out of control, there would be no one who could stop him. If Batman went rabid...

Barbara spoke before I could. "But you're okay now."

He nodded.

"Did you kill anyone?" Blunt though she was, I loved her in that moment for having the guts to ask what I didn't.

He glanced at the door again, and was silent.

So were we.

The creak of a floorboard shot him into action like I've never seen, back into the cowl in a matter of seconds as the bedroom door opened and Helena padded out, barefoot and bruised, the healing bite on her shoulder oozing a thin line of blood from a broken scab. She was wearing a black tank top and a pair of boxer shorts covered in... yellow ovals with bats in them... I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"WHERE did you get those?" I felt rather than saw Batman's face start to flush, anger rising in his voice.

She sank nonchalantly into her armchair, draping one long leg over the arm. "What? They sell them at Target, you didn't know?"

He was practically shaking. "NOIDIDNOTKNOW."

I grinned at her. "Those are great."

She grinned back. "I know. Any excuse to yank his chain, right?" She shifted, winced, and gingerly touched her shoulder.

Batman was furious. Why did he care so much?

Barbara put it together about 15 seconds before I did, with a strangled "Oh. My. GOD."

Helena looked at her, arching one perfect Sicilian brow. "What?"

"You FUCKED him!" I stared at her. Profanity was one thing for Helena and I, our rough and tumble back alley world, but Barbara was normally above that, both literally and figuratively, and she was most certainly what I would have described as lady-like.

"THAT IS IRRELEVANT!" Batman roared, startling all of us.

Helena just shrugged, picking up a tissue from an end table and holding it to her arm. "So? Jealous?"

I was. Oh lord was I ever.

We sat in awkward silence. I broke it first, standing up. "Helena, where's your coffee? I'm never going to survive the rest of this conversation without it."

She didn't even look up. "Left cabinet over the sink." That's where she keeps the fancy flavored stuff she drinks. Mine was under the sink. So that was how we were we were going to play this. I opened the cabinet and fumbled around, pretending to look for it for a moment, then selected a bag of chocolate caramel coconut blend and dumped it into the basket of the coffee maker. Meanwhile, the three of them just sat in silence, the Bat seething, Barbara in shock, and Helena doing her best to look nonchalant about the whole thing in her silly Bat-shorts and failing miserably.

The coffee finished brewing before anyone said another word, and I handed it out in mugs with various Italian phrases on them. The only one I recognized was "Vai a morire ammazzato," "go and die murdered." I assumed the rest were equally offensive.

Finally, as we all sat nursing our candy-flavored caffeine habits, Batman spoke. It was his usual dark, unreadable growl, and I assumed he was over his annoyance, or at least had repressed it along with the rest of his humanity. "We need to know more about this Primal."

Babs, grateful for the segue, nodded. "Where do we start?"

He studied his coffee so intently I half expected it to spontaneously combust. "She didn't come from nowhere. We start aggregating data. Everyone in the country... in the WORLD... with the skills to do something like this and the dark past to instigate it. She's young and female, that should limit it significantly. This is a sophisticated biological agent and she knows how to use it. Chances are excellent that she created it, and that sort of sophistication doesn't happen quietly or in a vacuum."

Barbara nodded, lapsing back into her thoughts. After a long moment, she murmured "I should get back to the clock tower."

Batman shook his head. "We're beyond that. You're all coming to Gotham until we get this figured out. Go back and pack what you need, and meet me back here at sunset."

Helena lifted her head and I saw her wince, almost imperceptibly. Her neck hurt. My fingers twitched reflexively thinking of the way she would drop her head forward onto her chest and groan softly as I expertly kneaded the muscles.

"I'm not going to Gotham," she said. "I have too much to do here and these people are in danger."

"The only way you can help them is by finding a way to stop Primal," he snapped back. "The National Guard has people quarantined and a curfew in effect, that's more than sufficient to minimize casualties while we work."

He fixed his eyes on her and I could feel the intensity even through the unreadable lenses.

She fidgeted for a moment under his gaze, then nodded grudgingly. "Only for a day or two though. They've closed the schools until this is over but I'll have to go back to work at some point."

He nodded. "It's settled. Dick, Barbara, I'll see you tonight." I watched Helena catch the implication that he was spending the day here, and the dismay that rolled across her face translated to pure satisfaction on mine. She lifted her eyes and our gazes locked for a long moment. I could tell she wished it was me. I did too.

I wrapped an arm around Barbara's shoulder reflexively. "C'mon Babs. Let's go try and snag some more shut-eye." She nodded gratefully, resting her head on my chest and closing her eyes, so trusting. I felt like the world's biggest asshole at that moment. I probably wasn't wrong.

As we shut the door behind us, I heard them start to argue about something. The shorts, I think. I did not envy them the day they were about to have, not one bit.


End file.
